


For a Good Man

by estelraca



Category: Kamen Rider Decade | Masked Rider Decade, Kamen Rider Kuuga, Kamen Rider Ryuki | Masked Rider Ryuki
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estelraca/pseuds/estelraca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Godai had told Onodera he could come to him whenever he needed help.  When Kaitou Daiki ends up in jail and Natsumi and Tsukasa aren't available, that's exactly what he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For a Good Man

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for tofubeast, who asked me to write Godai/Ichijou meeting Yuusuke/Daiki

“You want me to help you rescue a thief.”

“Not if you don’t want to.” Godai smiles cheerfully, continuing to pack his small travel bag. One pair of jeans, two grey T-shirts, one flannel shirt, three pairs of boxers, and it could mean he intends to be gone for a week or a month or a year.

“All right. I’ll rephrase that. You’re going heaven-knows-where to rescue a thief from heaven-knows-what, and you’re inviting me along.” Ichijou’s exasperation shows in his voice.

“I wish you’d stop calling him that.” Onodera Yuusuke hovers in the doorway, arms clasped across his chest, a mixture of frustration and chagrin on his face.

“You’re going after Kaitou Daiki. The last time I checked he was a thief. It’s a self-prescribed job title in this case.” Ichijou’s protest starts off pointed and ends almost apologetic as the young man’s face sets in a determined, stubborn, acutely embarrassed mask. “It wasn’t a value judgment.”

“Yes, it was.” Godai’s voice is cheerful, a bright accompaniment to the sharp words. “You don’t want me to potentially put myself in danger for someone that you think has made poor choices. But I don’t care. He’s Onodera’s friend. He’s a fellow Rider. And we still owe them more than we can ever repay for letting the Rider War happen.”

Godai tenses, just slightly, his eyes sliding from Ichijou’s face to the floor. He’s never forgiven himself for what happened. Never mind that it was necessary. Never mind that Tsukasa played the part of the aggressor first, DaiShocker’s illustrious, monstrous leader.

The Riders chose to sacrifice one unwilling life to save many.

And though Godai can forgive them for making that awful choice—forgive Ichijou for agreeing with them, at some points—he has yet to forgive himself for not finding a third option.

This was really not the dilemma that Ichijou had wanted to come home to.

“You don’t need to come.” Onodera smiles at both of them, though his tension and nervousness is still present in his stance. “I’ll be fine on my own if you want or need to stay here, Godai-san.”

“I told you I’d come.” Swinging his bag onto his shoulder, Godai smiles at his younger other-dimensional self. “So I’m coming. You don’t have to come, Ichijou. I was half-joking with the invitation, anyway. You always get upset that I disappear off to other dimensions without saying anything. So this time I not only told you where I’m going, I gave you the option of coming along.”

“Because I walked in on you packing.”

“Ah… well…”

“Would you have remembered to even leave a note if I had been late coming home?” There’s more fond exasperation than anger in Ichijou’s voice as he asks the question. Godai is Godai, and trying to tie him down in one place has never been a feasible task.

Godai just shrugs, offering a slightly sheepish grin instead of an answer.

“That’s what I thought.” Turning back to Onodera, Ichijou suppresses a slight smile of his own. “Tell me more about what’s going on. Please.”

“Kaitou’s missing.” Anger and fear both shine from Onodera as he says the simple statement.

It wipes any trace of levity from Ichijou. No matter what else Kaitou Daiki might be, he’s important to this boy who is-and-isn’t Godai.

“I tracked him to a world we haven’t visited before.” Onodera draws a deep breath. “There’s some kind of… gladiatorial games for prisoners there. Kaitou’s scheduled to fight in two days.”

“So he’s being held by the state in this world for his crimes.” Ichijou says the words gently, trying to be as non-judgmental as possible. “For stealing?”

“Yes.” Onodera’s expression goes from misery to simmering fury as he meets Ichijou’s gaze. “But what they’re doing isn’t right. Forcing people to fight as entertainment—someone told me almost all of them die within the first three days. They make them fight every day, once a day, no medical attention, until they die. And I’m not going to let that happen. I’m going to save him.”

Ichijou glances at Godai, standing completely unperturbed beside Onodera. It’s clear enough that Godai’s already made up his mind about the situation. Ichijou knows that, and knows why, and even agrees with him in many ways. Still… “You’re going to be taking on the legitimate government of a completely different world.”

“It’s wrong.”

Godai and Onodera speak in tandem, Onodera’s voice heated, Godai’s quiet and calm. The two men glance at each other, sharing a small smile, before turning their fierce regard back to Ichijou.

“It’s wrong, Ichijou.” Godai continues. “Doing that to anyone is wrong.”

“Plus Kaitou doesn’t even belong to their world.” Onodera seems calmer as he continues to talk, picking up some of Godai’s peaceful, frustrating, absolute obstinate surety. “And he’s my friend. So we’ll save him.”

It’s a tangled, knotty, thorny mess of politics and rights and world determination that the young man’s cutting through with simple morality and dogged loyalty. Rubbing at his forehead, Ichijou sighs. “What about the other two in your group? Hikari Natsumi and Kadoya Tsukasa.”

“They’re…” Onodera pauses, and Ichijou has a hard time sorting out what emotion it is that’s stalled the young man’s tongue. Embarrassment, partly; worry, too; maybe a hint of sadness, though he’s not sure. “They’re on their honeymoon. I don’t want to bother them unless I have to. Since Godai said before that I could come to him for help…”

“You’re certain about this, Godai?” Ichijou watches the other man closely, trying to make sure that Godai’s thought this through, that he isn’t just acting on guilt. “It’s a dangerous precedent, Riders interfering in other worlds without invitation.”

Godai nods, expression completely serious for once. “I’m not going to seek out trouble. But if I know something’s wrong, and I have the power to act, I’m going to. I have to, Ichijou. It’s the only way I’m going to be able to stay me.”

It’s a chilling statement, though said in the calmest voice, and for a moment Ichijou finds himself shivering as though in an icy wind. A mountain wind, pure and cold, and now isn’t the time for him to think of that.

Their expressions don’t quite match. Godai’s ferocity is quieter, duller than that of his younger counterpart. His anger is less obvious, the drive in him more abstract and less personal pain.

Or less obviously personal pain. Because there is pain, fear, love, regret, so much that it hurts, as Godai glances at Onodera.

Ichijou would have gone because it is, abstractly, the right thing to do, even if it is foolish and simplistic.

The fact that it will help Godai’s brother, and possibly even Godai himself, means that there really isn’t much choice at all.

***

“He has reasons for being like he is.”

Onodera speaks quietly, swirling his drink as he stares into it. They’re sitting outside at a café together, waiting for Godai to get back from the last of their reconnaissance missions.

Setting down the paper he’s been reading, Ichijou studies the young man. “You mean Kaitou has his reasons for being a thief? Other than his name, I’m assuming.”

The attempt at levity gets at least a slight grin from Onodera. “I’m serious, though. He wasn’t always… like he is now.”

“Most people aren’t born kleptomaniacs. Usually there’s something, either in their environment or an event that happens to him, that starts them down that path.” Shrugging, Ichijou studies the newsprint again. “But it doesn’t change the fact that he’s chosen to continue thieving.”

“He’s a good man.” Yuusuke stares at him, expression earnest and unwavering. “He just… his world was awful. There was a creature there. Its name was Fourteen. It ruled the populace with an iron fist. It insisted that everyone be… kind to each other. That everyone be docile, and gentle, benign and benevolent, and the monsters that worked for him could eat you if you didn’t follow their rules well enough. If there were any insurgents, anyone he thought was really dangerous, he would capture them and place these… creatures in their head. They took away your free will. Made you do whatever Fourteen wanted you to do, even if it was hurt your friends, and there was nothing you could do about it.”

Onodera pauses, lips pale, hands locked tight around his glass.

It cuts deep into Ichijou’s heart, watching this young man who sometimes mimic Godai so closely obviously grapple with old demons. If it were Godai, he would touch his shoulder, gently, offering what comfort he could.

He’s not sure what to do for this young man, though, and while he sits quietly wondering what to say Onodera gives his shoulders a brief shake and continues on.

“That’s the kind of world Kaitou had to grow up in. A world where kindness wasn’t real, where cruelty hid behind generosity, where your will could be destroyed on a whim.” Onodera looks up, eyes haunted. “He was a policeman there, once. He really believed in… well. You understand.”

Ichjou nods, slowly. Kaitou was an officer, once. Someone with real faith in the system, from the way Onodera says it. Someone who thought they were doing the best that they could, helping their people in the strongest way possible…

Someone like Ichijou. And then to find out that the system was corrupt, that everything was a lie… shivering slightly, Ichijou considers his hands. Yes, that would be enough to break just about anyone’s moral compass. “I understand what you’re saying, I think. I understand that he’s been your friend. But it doesn’t make the fact that he’s currently a thief any better.”

Onodera frowns down at his hands again. “We’re working on it.”

“You’re working on it.” He repeats the words slowly, raising his eyebrows as he does.

“Yeah.” Onodera runs his hands along the glass, smiling uncertainly. “He was stealing to survive and to find things to help his world, at first. Now his world is… better. In some ways, at least. He’s spending more time with us. He’s stealing less.”

“But he still steals.”

“He enjoys it.” Onodera shrugs. “He’s got a long way to go. But he’s more than just a thief. A lot more. That’s all I wanted you to know.”

“All right.” Returning the younger man’s gaze, Ichijou nods. “It’s not like being a thief is the worst possible thing he could be. And I know that he’s something special. He’s a person that you care about.”

“Ah.” Smiling, Onodera sits back, more relaxed. “He is.”

Studying the young man, Ichijou tilts his head slightly. “Why does it matter to you so much what I think of him?”

Onodera hesitates a moment before shrugging. “You’re important to Godai. He values your opinion. I want you to understand why I asked him for help.”

“The fact that a man you know was going to die is reason enough. You don’t have to convince me that he’s a good man to make his rescue worthwhile.”

Onodera’s face falls, frustration taking the place of his tentative smile.

“But I believe you.” Reaching out to touch the younger man’s hand, just lightly, Ichijou smiles at him. “If you say he’s a good man at heart, then I believe you.”

“Because you see Godai in me?” There’s wry humor in Onodera’s voice, bemusement but not anger.

“Partially.” Ichijou finds his face warming at the admission. “I do see bits of Godai in you. But I’ve also seen how you acted throughout the Rider War. You’re a good man in your own right. I trust your judgment.”

“That means… a lot to me.” Onodera hesitates, eyes darting away, shoulders hunching in embarrassment. “I see shadows of someone in you, too. A… very dear friend of mine, on my world.”

“Godai told me about her.” Godai had told him a great deal about her, the traveler’s eyes bright with tears, his muscles taut with pent-up energy. The woman who fell to the Grongi, the detective that Godai thought was Ichijou’s counterpoint in Onodera’s world, the person whose death left Onodera so alone that it broke Godai’s heart… yes, Ichijou had heard about her. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I appreciate it.” Onodera smiles at him, the shadow of old pain in his eyes. “I miss her still, sometimes, but it’s better now. I have Natsumi and Tsukasa and Kaitou. It’s just… weird, seeing someone who sometimes seems so much like her and at other times… isn’t. It must be stranger to see Godai and I side-by-side.”

“Strange is a fair word for it.” Twisting his own drink around, Ichijou studies Onodera again. “Not unpleasant, though. If there’s anyone the world should have more of, it’s Godai Yuusuke.”

“I’ll try to live up to the faith you have in him, then.” There’s a fierce earnestness to Onodera’s expression that Ichijou’s only ever seen on one other man’s face before.

There’s nothing Ichijou can think of to say to that, so he turns back to the newspaper.

The articles are a mix of normal news and frightening pieces on state-mandated, brutal executions masquerading as sporting events. The articles are all very careful in their tone, supportive of the state, betraying the tightness of the regime’s control on the populace. A large section of the middle of the newspaper is devoted to a celebration for the emperor’s twentieth birthday. Not much is said about her or her reign, though a lot of space is spent on empty praise for the young woman.

He finds Kaitou’s name in that section, in a list of twelve contestants selected for an even bigger spectacle than usual by Kansaki Shirou. The winner of the competition will have the honor of fighting Kansaki’s hand-picked warrior for what is described as a “spectacular, unique” prize and the opportunity to leave the arena alive.

Kansaki Shirou.

Thirteen men fighting for a prize.

Shirou.

Oh, hell.

“Onodera-san, did you notice any Riders here when you did your initial reconnaissance?”

“No.” Yuusuke straightens, looking over at Ichijou. “Why?”

Setting the paper down between them, Ichijou points to the article. “Because I’ve got a very bad feeling that they’re going to exist in this world soon.”

***

They make their way through the checkpoints easily. Ichijou’s badge, with some modifications, works well enough at first. They get as far as the final gate leading to the cell blocks before they encounter any real resistance. It’s almost pathetically easy getting past the man, though. Between Godai and Onodera, he doesn’t stand a chance.

They don’t kill him. They simply use his own handcuffs to restrain his arms and strips of his uniform to gag him, shoving him in a closet for safekeeping.

Finding Kaitou’s cell isn’t difficult. There aren’t very many prisoners at all, really, and Ichijou finds his jaw clenching tight. He’s certain the low number of prisoners isn’t due to any kindness on the part of this world’s government. The fact that many of those who are present sport injuries, treated with improvised bandaging that look like they’re torn from strips of their own clothing, doesn’t improve his assessment of the situation.

Kaitou Daiki doesn’t react when Ichijou walks in front of his cell. His eyes scan Godai quickly, just the faintest change in his expression to give away that he knows the other Rider. He starts, jumping visibly, when he sees Onodera, though he immediately suppresses the reaction. Not fast enough to stop a real enemy from noticing, but it’s a gesture that Ichijou appreciates all the same. Kaitou’s trying to protect Onodera.

Onodera runs to the bars immediately, face transformed by a bright, fierce grin. “Kaitou! You’re all right.”

Kaitou’s eyes flick from Ichijou to Godai, and he raises his eyebrows slightly. He’s sitting comfortably in the far corner of his cell, in clothes that look like his usual attire.

“Don’t worry. They’re friends.” Onodera smiles as he says it, studying the cell door. “They’re here to help me rescue you.”

“You think I need rescuing?” Kaitou’s expression flips between amusement, frustration, and a flicker of what might be fondness. “Yuusuke, if I wanted out of here, I would be out of here. Hell, if I really had to I could just slip between worlds. Probably.”

“You…” Onodera pauses, clearly processing the information. “But they’re planning on killing you! On making you fight to the death. You hate fighting.”

“I do generally prefer avoiding conflict, but sometimes it’s inevitable.” Kaitou stands on the other side of the bars, opposite Onodera. “I want to be here, Yuusuke. I want to do this. So get out of here before you ruin everything.”

“I don’t think you understand, Kaitou.” Yuusuke speaks slowly, hands clenched around two of the bars. “This whole thing is a set-up. It’s being orchestrated by Kanzaki—ah, no, in this world it’s Kansaki Shirou. Ichijou and Godai recognize the general pattern from Ryuki’s world—ah, their Ryuki’s world, with Kido Shinji. Shirou creates thirteen Rider systems and makes their bearers fight for a prize, but he rigs the system so they can’t actually win.”

“He rigs the system so it’s harder to win. If you don’t know what you’re doing.” Kaitou grins, hands coming to rest on top of Yuusuke’s. “I know about Shirou’s plans as the Master of Ceremonies. That’s the whole reason I let him get his hands on me in the first place. It’s under control, Yuusuke. So shoo.”

“But…” Yuusuke hesitates. “You’ll have to fight to the death. You’ll have to kill other people.”

A chorus of laughter sounds around them, from cells next to and across the aisle from Kaitou.

“He’s so innocent, Daiki-chan.” The woman grins, hanging on the door to her cell and staring at them. “You didn’t tell us you’d have a supporter like him.”

“Get him out of here, Kaitou.” The man in the cell to Kaitou’s left stares at them, dark eyes fierce, short-cropped black hair slightly spiked. His black jeans and shirt help him blend in with the shadows in his cell. “If he ruins the plan, there are going to be issues.”

“Calm down, Ren.” Kaitou’s hands clench just slightly around Yuusuke’s, face going from amused levity to fierce certainty. “He’s not ruining anything. They can take care of themselves, and they’ll get out of here soon. Won’t you, Yuusuke?”

Godai steps back, scanning the cells around Kaitou’s. “We aren’t going to leave anyone here who doesn’t want to be here. We won’t leave anyone here to die.”

Silence descends around them, thick, waiting.

“We all chose to be here, hero.” Blond hair waving in a thick mane around his head, the man in the cell to the right of Kaitou grins at them. It’s not a grin that Ichijou likes, full of wild energy and feral desire. “For various reasons. Now, if you can promise me a better fight than the one thief-boy has, I’m all ears. Otherwise, go away.”

“Ignore Takeshi.” Kaitou reaches through the bars, turning Onodera’s head until they’re eye to eye again. “It took me a lot of time and a lot of world-hopping to set this up. Trust me, Yuusuke. I know what I’m doing.”

“We all know what we’re doing.” It’s another man who speaks, behind them, fists clenched in front of his deep brown eyes. His red jacket is an awkward splash of color in the cell. “We’ve all chosen this path, for better or worse.”

Onodera hesitates for one long moment, eyes flashing to each of the prisoners. Turning back to Kaitou, he finally nods. “I trust you. I’ll be there watching, though. I’ll be there to help if you need it.”

Kaitou grins. “I’m sure you will be. Maybe I’m even counting on it, in case things get a little off-track. But you have to promise me you won’t interfere unless you think Kansaki’s going to win. All right?”

“All right.” Onodera’s voice is a quiet whisper.

Patting Yuusuke on the cheek before retreating back into the corner of his cell, Kaitou gives him a silent thumb’s up.

Backing up a step, Onodera turns resolutely away. Grabbing Godai’s arm, he pulls the other Rider toward the exit, away from the eleven pairs of eyes that are examining them far too closely. At first Godai doesn’t move, and Ichijou takes his other arm, helping to guide him away before anything more complicated happens.

Godai doesn’t fight them, but Ichijou doesn’t like the hollow look in his eyes when they finally leave the cell block, or the silence that hangs over their small group as they surreptitiously leave the police station.

***

Godai’s quiet for the rest of the night.

He tries, at dinner, as they check into their hotel room, but there’s a terrible hollowness to his jokes, a desperate weariness lurking behind his attempts at cheer that make Ichijou’s soul hurt.

Godai’s really damn good at doing that, somehow.

The room they eventually settle on is in a Western-style hotel, where no questions were asked or eyebrows raised when they paid in cash. The room only has two beds, and there’s a moment of awkward silence as both Ichijou and Onodera glance between the beds and their small party.

Smiling and shaking his head, Onodera moves the table and chair closer to the wall, creating enough floor space for one person to comfortably sleep. “I’ll take the floor. I’ve slept well in way worse places. You two can have the beds.”

“No.” Picking up the young man’s bag, Ichijou tosses it onto the bed closest to him. “Fighters take the beds. Any floor’s probably more comfortable than my desk.”

There’s a pause, just slightly too long, and Ichijou realizes that they’re both waiting for Godai to chime in.

“Ah.” Giving his head a brief shake, Godai offers them a smile. “There’s plenty of room on the bed. Sleep with me, Ichijou. Then we’ll all be comfortable.”

Ichijou can feel his cheeks warming, his eyes dropping away from Onodera.

“If neither of you minds.” Onodera seems pleased enough with the situation. “Or you could sleep in my bed, Godai, if it would make you more comfortable, Ichijou-san.”

It would probably be less awkward. After all, they’re two copies of the same soul, and Ichijou has no doubt that it’s not anything other than fraternal love between the two of them.

Glancing at Godai’s face again, though, seeing the distracted way his eyes keep drifting away, the emptiness behind the smile, Ichijou knows what he needs to choose.

“I’ll stay with you.” Touching Godai’s shoulder, the faintest of contacts, helps to ease some of the tension in Ichijou’s heart.

When Godai’s hand closes on his, fierce and hot, he knows that he’s made the right decision.

***

“It’s not the same.”

Onodera’s voice is the barest whisper in the darkness, and Ichijou knows it was meant for Godai’s ears only. If he wasn’t still conscious, his right hand wrapped tight around Godai’s left, it wouldn’t have woken him.

“I know.” Godai says the words slowly, as though each one hurts him. “It isn’t… but it is.”

“We gave them a choice.” Onodera’s voice is firm, decisive. “We could have stopped this now. They’ve decided they need to do… whatever they’re planning on doing.”

“Sometimes people don’t make decisions for the right reason.” Godai’s fingers clasp tighter around Ichijou’s, until it’s almost painful. “Sometimes they need someone to stand up and tell them that it’s wrong. That they’re wrong. That there’s another way out.”

“Maybe they’ve already found another way out.” The hopeful cheer in Onodera’s voice is obvious. “Kaitou really doesn’t like fighting. He’s good at it, but he runs away from it whenever he can. He didn’t even participate in… in it.”

It. The Rider War, the terrible rift, the foisting of destruction and death onto someone who had tried to walk away from that mantle… the thing that hurt Godai as much as Daguva did.

It hurts, somehow, to admit that, even to himself. Daguva had been the worst thing in their lives for so long, the thing that they measured all other pains against.

Daguva had driven Godai away, into the forests, into the deserts, into lands where he knew no one and no one knew him, until the hurt had dulled to something manageable.

Godai didn’t run after the Rider War. He ran before it, refusing to participate, watching quietly as their new-found allies sacrificed themselves. He ached after it. He helped everyone that he could, doing everything in his power to ensure that all the Rider worlds were safe and whole again, but there was always pain beneath the joy.

Always grim guilt beneath the satisfaction of victory.

Ichijou has never really worried, before, about Godai ever choosing to sleep away his immortality, like the Kuuga before him had.

He doesn’t like that his thoughts are going there now, and his hand tightens around Godai’s, as though holding onto him physically can keep him there mentally and spiritually.

“I know he ran away. After shooting Tsukasa in the head.” There’s no anger, no judgment, just grim sadness in Godai’s voice. “He’ll do what he thinks he has to. No more, no less.”

Silence stretches, a churning, thinking deepness.

“I trust him.” Onodera says the words with the gravity that they deserve. “Kaitou. He told me to stay and help. He wouldn’t have done that if he was planning something truly awful. So don’t worry about it so much. It’s not going to be the Rider War all over again.”

“I hope so.” There’s true, honest hope in the statement, rather than the wistful disbelief that most people said it with. “For all our sakes, Yuusuke, I truly hope so.”

The younger man doesn’t respond. There’s nothing left to be said, really. There’s only waiting, and watching, and trusting that the thief is as good a man as Onodera thinks he is.

Moving as quietly as he can, Ichijou slides his arm across Godai’s chest, offering him the only comfort he can.

He really hopes that Onodera is right.

***

It’s awful.

The twelve prisoners are marched into the arena, lined up and forced to spin in a slow circle so that the entire audience can see them. Each of the fighters is given a Rider system to use. The suits are terribly, painfully familiar, ones that Godai and Ichijou have watched friends and allies use in the past.

The contestants are all taken to the end of the arena, opposite the raised dais where Kansaki reclines. With a casual gesture he summons them in groups of two to the center of the sandy arena, where they turn on each other with the savagery of starving wolves. When only one is left standing, the other is gestured back to the line of contestants, to await the next summons.

They have a ritual, before they fall. It isn’t Kansaki’s ritual. Ichijou’s certain of that from the time the second one does it, because Kansaki’s mouth twitches into a slight frown, annoyed, wary but not worried.

Before they fall, before they lie down in a pool of their own blood, each of the defeated turns to Kaitou and says a simple phrase.

For truth, the woman in Scissor’s armor says, and Ichijou knows, somehow, that she is Reiko’s sister in this world.

For myself, the man in Zolda’s armor says, but there is a deep defiance behind his eyes that belies the simplicity of his words.

For the companionship, the punk in Gai’s armor says, and he looks at Kaitou to say the words but then allows his eyes to drift back to the fallen form of Zolda’s wearer. He is whistling when he finally stops moving, though barely any sound comes from his cracked lips.

For a chance to live, the woman in Imperor’s armor cries, and her eyes scan the audience for someone. Ichijou doesn’t think she finds them, her gaze going empty before recognition appears on her face.

For understanding, the young woman in Tiger’s armor murmurs as she falls, and there is a puzzled, lost look on her face when she goes still.

For my daughter, the man in Alternative’s armor says, and Ichijou clenches his hands tight so he can’t possibly go for his gun.

For knowledge, the woman in Verde’s armor says, and her glare is like daggers as she turns toward Kansaki before falling.

For hope, the man in the red jacket, Raia’s bearer, whispers to the crowds and then to Kaitou before slumping to the ground.

For a good man, the woman in Femme’s armor says, and she’s smiling at Kaitou as she falls.

For the fun, the man in Ouja’s armor laughs, and he falls five times before he finally lays still.

For Eri, the man in Knight’s armor that Kaitou had called Ren says, and Godai gives a soft exhalation of agony.

The crowd is deathly silent during each proclamation, though they erupt into cheers as soon as the fighter has fallen.

None of the defeated so much as twitches as the long day stretches on, slowly killing any hope that they are feigning death.

Kaitou fights with Ryuki’s armor. He fights well, despite the fact that Ryuki’s weapon of choice is nothing like his own. He kills the woman in Tiger’s armor, the man in Raia’s, and finally the man in Knight’s suit, leaving him the champion of the field.

Kansaki Shirou claps softly, rising from his throne with slow, stately grace. He observes Kaitou closely for long seconds, finally nodding his approval and gesturing for the thief to step forward into the arena again.

The crowd goes wild, half cheering for the thief, half calling for Kansaki’s final contestant to step forward.

Onodera stands at Ichijou’s left with his hands locked around the rail in front of them, eyes fixed on Kaitou. He hasn’t spoken since the first man fell, and Ichijou’s certain he won’t until some resolution is reached.

Godai stands on Ichijou’s right. He simply stares at the arena, eyes heavy with misery and disappointment.

Ichijou slips his hand inside his jacket again, checking once more than his gun is loaded and ready and easy to reach. He’s not sure who he’s going to need to shoot—Kansaki for starting this or Kaitou for forcing them to watch it—but he’s quite certain that someone is going to need to be shot soon.

Kansaki walks to the edge of his private platform, smiling benevolently down at Kaitou. Holding up a hand, he silences the crowd. “Well played, Kaitou Daiki. Very well played.”

“I try.” Smirking up at Kansaki, Kaitou settles his jacket more comfortably on his shoulders. “Only one more monster to go before I get the prize, right?”

“Indeed.” The smile that Kansaki graces Kaitou with this time oozes condescension and certainty. “For a thief, you have done well. You have displayed some measure of courage, some rudimentary comprehension of tactics, and a ruthlessness that is unique to those of your ilk. But you are, above all, a thief. A criminal, lacking in something critical, unable to attach to your mother State or your brethren as you should.

“And thus it is inevitable that you will die.” Turning to the audience, Kansaki raises his hands. “He will fall, as all criminals will fall. His death shall be unique, though. His death shall be at the hands of something novel. Something glorious. Something without peer. Something new crafted from the bones of something very, very old.

“Behold!” Kansaki points to the center of the arena, where a small whirlwind gathers sand into a spiral fifty, a hundred, two hundred centimeters tall. Abruptly the sand falls away, revealing a beautiful figure coated in golden armor, a sword gripped tight in one hand. “The embodiment of the will of the people! The pure might of our glorious land’s desires given form! Odin, the one who shall take the life of this last of the fallen monsters and create something far more valuable from it: immortality for our dearest emperor.”

The crowd is still lost in stunned murmurs when Odin attacks. The armor moves swiftly, sometimes seeming to go faster than the eye can follow.

Re-activating Ryuki’s armor, Kaitou dodges strike after strike. It makes the fight into a graceful dance, an exhibition of strength where the rest had been vicious contests of survival. It is almost surreal, the thief in the wrong armor fighting the golden Rider who may not even be a real human.

Then Odin slides behind Kaitou, strikes before the thief can turn entirely, and blood arcs through the air. Ryuki’s armor cracks, splinters, shatters away in a thousand pieces of red. Kaitou’s hand closes on the point of the sword protruding from his left shoulder, head tilting as he examines the weapon like a foreign object, and—

“Yuusuke!”

The scream echoes through the stadium. There is pain in it, and desperation, but the strongest emotion is actually rabid elation.

Onodera and Godai move as one, vaulting over the railing and down to the lower level of spectators, the Kuuga armor flowing over them in unison. They are on the arena floor before anyone human could possibly react.

Perhaps it is Kansaki’s distraction. Perhaps it is Kaitou’s hand, holding tight to Odin’s sword, keeping weapon and warrior in place.

Whatever the reason, Odin doesn’t move fast enough to escape the Rider’s kicks.

It’s beautiful. Godai’s fire always is, in a dark, destructive way, and having it magnified two-fold only makes it more so.

Kansaki screams, reaching down toward the arena as though he could will himself there.

Kaitou laughs, one hand clutched to the bloody wound in his shoulder, and darts forward into the ball of light that Odin left behind in place of a body.

Ichijou isn’t certain what happens next. There is an explosion of light, centering on Kaitou’s body. There’s a twisting, wrenching, changing sensation that he always associates with slipping between worlds, but nothing actually changes in their environment.

Or maybe it does. Maybe those are true images, in the light surrounding Kaitou. Maybe those are other worlds, other possibilities, and he has to look away from the thief.

And then it’s over, as quickly as it started.

He’s not as fast as Onodera and Godai, but Ichijou still makes good time down to the arena floor. His gun is in his hand, the safety off, as he tries to watch all directions at once while keeping the majority of his attention focused on Kansaki.

Kaitou’s laughing behind him. It’s a bright, pleased, exhilarated sound, almost but not quite hysterical. “I did it! We did it!”

Onodera kneels down at Kaitou’s side, taking off his jacket and using it to put pressure on the wounds in the thief’s shoulder. “You certainly did something, Kaitou.”

“I changed it.” Kaitou’s face is pale but his smile is beautiful as he throws his right arm around Onodera’s shoulder. “I made it better.”

Raia’s bearer rises first, left arm dangling at an unnatural angle. Blood still stains his clothing, but once he gets to his feet he seems steady enough, and there is no fresh blood showing anywhere.

As though his rising had been a signal, others stand. Reiko’s sister and the woman in Verde’s armor, and they move together, join hands after sharing a smile of relief and bright hope. Gai’s bearer, and he immediately rushes to Zolda’s wearer’s side, helping the other man to his feet. Alternative, Femme, Imperor and Tiger’s fighters all rise, though Imperor and Tiger’s users sit down again almost immediately, nursing their injuries. Ouja’s bearer starts to rise and then collapses to the ground, laughing and clutching at his broken leg.

The man who had been in Knight’s armor staggers to his feet last, right hand pressed against the wound in his stomach that had been the finishing blow. He still bleeds, sluggishly, but his face sets in a look of pure determination as he stalks toward the exit to the arena.

“Stop them!” Kansaki’s voice snaps through the silence that had gripped the crowd. Guards appear at the exit, guns clasped in shaking hands, and Ichijou immediately shifts his aim.

Knight stops, hesitates, and looks back at Kaitou. “Did you betray us?”

The roar of the crowd dies again, fading to stunned whispers as they repeat Ren’s words.

Kaitou’s smile fades, uncertainty and disbelief taking its place before he shrugs, as though it doesn’t matter. The shrug turns to a wince of agony. “I did what I said I would. I never promised it would work.”

“Whatever plan you thought you had, it’s failed.” Kansaki’s voice and face are calm again. Moving to the edge of his platform, he raises his hand regally. “For your crimes, and for disrupting the celebration for our esteemed emperor, you are all hereby sentenced to dea—”

“No.” The woman’s voice is calm but strong, slicing over Kansaki’s.

The crowd reacts immediately. Every person in the stands drops to their knees, heads lowered, showing as much respect as they can in the cramped stadium. Any whispering dies within seconds, leaving an unnatural silence in its wake.

“No.” She climbs up onto the platform where Kansaki stands with stately grace. Walking over to him, she places one hand on his cheek. “Do not give that order.”

“You should not be here.” His words are soft, but they are picked up by the sound system of the stadium, amplified so that everyone can hear. “You must not do this!”

“Because they will try to kill me?” She smiles, but there is a razor edge of bitter hatred to it. “Let them. All the world is watching your gift to me, half-brother. If I am to make a move of my own, what better time than now?”

His hands grip her wrists, tightly. For long seconds the two of them simply stare at each other. Then, slowly, he lets her go.

She moves to the edge of Kansaki’s platform, this woman who must be the emperor, and stares down at the arena. At the fighters standing, defiant, expressions ranging from hatred to disbelief to tentative, fragile hope on their faces.

“You have fought well, and bravely, for ideals and for people that you have deemed worth your life. How could I do any less?” Smiling, she shifts her attention from the fighters to the cameras, staring into them, into the homes of her subjects. “Kansaki sought to give me the ultimate gift. He has done so, but not in the way he intended. I do not and have never wanted blood shed in my name, but if it will be, then let it be for the proper cause. I disavow the policies of our nation. I disavow the laws that say freedom is silence, ignorance is knowledge. You are free to speak and publish truth. You are free to walk where you will, and love who you will, and pursue what dreams you have. May heaven forgive me for all that has happened and all that may yet happen.”

Turning to the guards at the gate, she gestures to the fighters. “Take them to receive medical attention. Guard them. I grant them clemency for their crimes, and ask only that they help to form a better country than the one we have been given.”

Kaitou’s grinning again, self-assurance mixing with absolute glee in the expression. “I don’t think I could ask for a better ending than that. How about you take me home now, Yuusuke?”

***

The guards obey the emperor’s command, taking the fighters for medical attention. Onodera and Kaitou slip away, back to their world, and in the chaos no one really notices. Most of the fighters are too exhausted to do much more than submit quietly to medical treatment, but some aren’t.

Ren chafes as the doctor stitches his wound closed. He refuses to be placed under anesthesia for the procedure, scowling down at the doctor as she starts her work.

“A few millimeters deeper and you would have been in trouble.” The woman stitches smoothly, gloved hands not shaking as she makes pass after pass through torn muscle. “As it is, you’ll need antibiotics and to rest. No arena fights for at least a month.”

If Ren understands the attempted humor in her words, he doesn’t show it. He just looks between her work and the door repeatedly.

“Don’t worry.” Godai smiles as he says the words to Ren. “I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.” Ren meets Godai’s eyes for a moment, scowling, and then turns away. “This is a dangerous time.”

“If you want me to go find your Eri…”

Ren’s glare is fiery hot, and the doctor elbows him sharply as he tries to sit up. “No.”

“All right.” Holding up his hands in surrender, Godai backs away. “I mean that invitation to anyone. If you want me to go look for someone…”

“They should be safe.” It’s Raia’s bearer, Miyuki, who speaks. He’s found a coin somewhere, and twirls it expertly between his fingers. “Because of you, actually, they should be safe.”

“I’m glad.” Godai rubs at his neck, glancing around the room at the fighters. “But I don’t understand.”

“Because you’ve seen horror. Because you bleed with the innocent and innocence lost, and won’t show the wound to anyone to bandage.” Miyuki’s eyes are fixed on the coin, moving almost hypnotically between his fingers. “Because this Rider War needs a clean finish, to make it all right for you and for your shadow-brother.”

“I think you’re scaring the nice man, Miyuki-chan.” Patting the other man on the shoulder, Femme’s wearer scans both Ichijou and Godai. “Kaitou told us about you two. What he knew, at least. Glad you could assist, I suppose.”

“Glad to be of assistance.” Glancing around the room once more, Godai shakes his head. “I don’t understand. You all knew what was going to happen? You all agreed to it?”

“More or less.” Miyuki flips the coin into the air and grabs it. “Kaitou told us what he knew, and showed us what we needed to see to make a decision. We walked this path because we wanted to. All of us.”

“All of you…” Godai speaks quietly, almost to himself, but there’s a chorus of agreement from the assembled fighters anyway.

Ichijou doesn’t know what it is Godai sees in these people’s faces. But something changes in his stance, in his expression, and he looks more like himself than he has in a very long time.

“So your plan succeeded, and your people should be all right.”

Everyone nods, expressions of hope on their faces.

“Good. I think we’ll stick around for a while, anyway, just to help if we can.” Godai grins. “But I’m sure everything’s going to be all right.”

***

The injury isn’t as bad as it had looked at first. Kaitou stubbornly insists that he doesn’t need a doctor, and after a few minutes of fighting with him Yuusuke gives up and instead takes Kaitou to the photo studio. It’ll be easier to take him to a doctor later if he needs it, when he’s unconscious and thus incapable of causing trouble.

He’s not sure what he feels as he bandages the thief’s arm and shoulder, trying to put enough pressure that it won’t bleed and will hold the thief’s arm in place without making it so tight that it won’t heal easily. Relief, he supposes, that Kaitou’s alive and here and seems mostly like himself.

Confusion. Hesitancy, fear, that if he asks what he should that he won’t like the answers.

Still, it’s something that he needs to know.

“What did you do?” He’s busy taping the last of the bandaging material down. It’s not professional, but it should be functional.

“What do you mean?” Moving slowly and gingerly, Kaitou flexes his good arm and stretches his back.

“This whole thing. What was it about?” Putting everything back into the first aid kit, he glances at Kaitou.

“Does it matter?” Rising slowly, Kaitou leans down and then stands up again abruptly, right hand hovering over the bandaging. “Bad idea. Not doing that again for a while. I mean, I’m here, they’re all alive for the moment at least…”

Yuusuke just stares at Kaitou until the thief trails off sheepishly.

“Fine.” Sighing, Kaitou sits back down on the couch. “That light display was the power to make a wish. Any wish you want. Kansaki designed the Rider systems specifically with the goal of creating it. He wanted to make the empress, his half-sister, immortal, so she wouldn’t be as at risk of being knifed in the back by her advisors. They don’t seem to be seeing eye-to-eye on most things, you see, and she’s just not very good at being a puppet leader.”

“And you stole the wish.” Yuusuke frowns, trying to follow and understand. “You and the other eleven with you. How? Why?”

“Kansaki was just going to choose twelve random unlucky prisoners for his game. Then I went and made a nuisance of myself, and he had to up the ante. The same advisors that were making Yui’s life difficult insisted that he make the game a grand spectacle, with the fighters carefully chosen and groomed for the crowds. They ran little biographies and litanies of our crimes for days before the show.” Grinning, Kaitou uses his good hand to tussle his hair before assuming a serious expression. “Kaitou Daiki, unrepentant thief and enemy of society. Through very careful manipulation, I made sure the other eleven who volunteered or were chosen for the games were ones that would go along with the plan. Or, in the case of people I didn’t expect getting in, I gave them a little tour of alternate worlds until I found whatever was needed to get them on board with the plan.”

“The plan to steal the wish.” Yuusuke shakes his head. “How could you possibly come up with a wish that everyone would agree to?”

“Well, when you’re under the heel of an authoritarian regime with no regard for civil rights, it’s amazing how well wishes line up.” Though Kaitou’s smiling, there’s a bitter undercurrent to his words.

“So you wished for their world to be better?” Frowning, Yuusuke shakes his head. “You wouldn’t wish for that. Well, I didn’t mean it like that, but it would be an awful lot of trouble to go through to make a wish like that.”

“It would, and you’re right, I didn’t.” Kaitou turns away, and it takes Yuusuke a moment to recognize that the subtle changes to his posture mean he’s embarrassed.

“Are you going to tell me what you wished for?” Touching Kaitou’s shoulder gently, he turns the other man around. “Or do I need to guess?”

“All tyrants fall and good men get what they need to remain good men.” Kaitou says the words in a rush, eyes studying the floor. “It’s what we finally decided was the best phrasing for it. It would help their world no matter who won. But I had to win if I wanted my plan to work.”

“There was more to the plan than that?”

“I can touch other worlds. I can touch as many other worlds as I can hold in my mind.” Kaitou’s head rises slowly, his eyes catching on Yuusuke’s. “We all can. Tsukasa’s gift to us. And there are a lot of worlds that need that wish. A lot of worlds where the good man I know has to see things he shouldn’t.”

It takes Yuusuke a moment to process what Kaitou’s saying. “For me? You did this for me?”

“For my world, too.” Kaitou smiles, but there’s still a hesitant uncertainty to the expression. “Happy birthday, Yuusuke.”

He hugs Kaitou fiercely, shifting his grip as the thief gives a yelp of pain, trying not to touch Kaitou’s injured shoulder. “Kaitou Daiki, you are the… I don’t… my birthday’s not for two months, you know.”

“I had to find this world, and then I had to plan all of this. You cannot be upset about the timing.” Kaitou’s disgruntled frown fades, and he smiles. “And you’re not. I’m sorry if it looked awful. I hadn’t planned on you being there and having to see… that. But I’m glad you were there.”

“It’s the only reason the plan worked, right?” Grinning up at Kaitou, he takes a step back. “Helping multiple worlds and lots of people in one quick move.”

“I could have done it without you. I had Diend stashed in a secret compartment in the center of the arena.” Kaitou shrugs, wincing a moment later. “Damn that stupid puppet. This is in a really awkward place, you know?”

“Uh huh. A few centimeters lower and you’d be trying to breathe blood.” The thought immediately destroys the levity in the room, and Yuusuke hugs the thief again, pulling him tight against his body. “I appreciate what you did. It means… so much. Especially from you. But next time, you can just get me a coat or something.”

Kaitou’s right hand goes around Yuusuke’s shoulders, returning the embrace, and Kaitou’s head settles easily against Yuusuke’s. Comfortable, warm, close, and Yuusuke sighs in contentment.

After a moment he frowns, tightening his hold on Kaitou. “Not a stolen coat, though.”

Kaitou laughs, a dark rumble under Yuusuke’s ear. “Let’s keep the wishes reasonable, all right?”

***

It’s the quietest revolution Ichijou’s ever seen.

Godai sees more of it than him, because Godai stays in their world until it’s over, but Ichijou sees enough. The media shifts overnight, led by Reiko’s soul-sister and her small team of dedicated reporters. The arena is destroyed at Emperor Yui’s request. The man who had been Zolda and his aid assist in the drafting of alternative punishments for crimes. Miyuki becomes an advisor to the Emperor, helping her to choose paths for their people.

It’s not what usually happens in spur-of-the-moment revolutions.

But it’s a pleasant surprise, and Ichijou finds that it helps heal wounds in his soul that he hadn’t even realized were there.

It works a miracle on Godai.

He’s happy. It’s a subtle change, a minor difference, because Godai has always been cheerful. When they were fighting Daguva, when Tsukasa betrayed them, when they watched the Rider War, Godai was always a light in the darkness. Now, though, he has something to burn other than his stubborn determined spirit, and the joy makes everything he does into something wondrous.

Godai spends two months in their world. When he finally comes home to stay, he walks in the door, throws his bag on the ground, and grabs Ichijou in a fierce embrace.

It’s far too personal. It’s far too obvious a sign of affection, and Ichijou can feel his face burning.

It’s also just right, and he hugs Godai back with equal fierceness.

Eventually Godai pulls away. “It’s done. They’re doing all right.”

“I knew they would.” Smiling, Ichijou heads toward the kitchen. There should be left-over dinner than Godai can have. “You did a good job.”

“I didn’t do much. Kaitou started it, and the ten of them that actually cared about their world finished it.” Godai laughs, stealing the plate of food out of Ichijou’s hands and carrying it to the microwave. “Ren blames me for Takeshi surviving. He said there’s no way Takeshi’s a good man, and if some bleeding-heart idiots hadn’t been watching he would have had the courtesy to stay dead.”

Ichijou smiles, just slightly. “Has he actually done something wrong?”

Godai shrugs. “Nothing new. He causes trouble when he gets bored. Starts fights. But he hasn’t hurt anyone, and given the way Yui’s watching him I don’t think he’ll get an opportunity to. He might end up being the test subject for some of Goro’s rehabilitation programs, though.”

“That should be interesting. We’ll have to make sure Goro doesn’t get too disheartened if they don’t work on that man.” There’s a companionable silence for few minutes as Godai starts eating. “You’re going to stay here for a while?”

“For a while.” Godai swallows another bite. “A few months, at least. I need to catch up with everyone here. And then I thought I would do what Kaitou did. Just start jumping to worlds, see what I find.”

Ichijou nods, trying not to be disappointed. Godai is a traveler, through to his core. It can only be a good thing that he finally wants to explore all the worlds the multiverse has to offer them.

“I want you to come with me.”

Ichijou starts, raising his head to meet Godai’s eyes. Godai has never offered him the opportunity to go with him before.

“I know you have work. I wouldn’t ever ask you to give that up. But if you wanted to come with me on your days off…” Godai pauses, looking almost sheepish. “I’d really like that.”

Glancing down at the table, Ichijou tries to decide what to do. It’s dangerous, going to other worlds. It’s hard to decide when to get involved and when to not interfere.

Which, really, makes it just like any other police work he’s ever done.

And this time, he’ll have Godai at his side again.

Smiling at Godai, he nods once. “I think I’d like that very much.”


End file.
